


Two Hours

by Skullszeyes



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Violence, Flash Fic, Gen, Infiltration, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Original Character Death(s), Randomness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: She gets a phone call during a torture session, and figures out the person under the mask is someone she dislikes.





	Two Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea when I was thinking of Izaya, and the time when he was tied to a chair or something like that. IDK. I decided to add an OC, because why not. It's a different scenario with different people. Just, something I wanted to type up and get out of my head. :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

It had been going on for two hours. Akira stood to the side, frowning at the man tied up to the metal chair, his hands bound behind him, and he wore a simple black v-neck shirt, and pants. He was thin, and barely said much, not like he could when they covered his mouth with black tape to stop him from screaming. 

The woman who was torturing him was having her fun. She was pretty on the conventional side, and didn’t seem that bothered by what she was putting the man into. From what Akira could tell, the woman had an interesting set of skills, even if she was the most colorful one in the room with her magenta dress that had a long slit on the side. 

She checked her phone while this was going on, wondering what they were meant to do next. 

“Aozora.” 

She raised her eyes toward a man standing across the room from them. He seemed a little nervous while the woman wearing the dress was mocking the one tied up on the chair. 

“What?” Akira asked, stepping away from the wall, but not leaving the shadow that was cast over her. 

“You got a phone call,” he said, making sure he didn’t look at the woman and waving a cellphone at her, “he said it was urgent.”

Isn’t everything urgent nowadays?

Akira sighed and finally stepped from the shadows and crossed the room, ignoring the muffled cries coming from the man in the chair, and the smirking woman who was now holding a switch blade in her hand. 

She took the phone from the man, and let out a sigh. “What is it now? I’m conducting business at the—” She blinked when the voice on the other line was oddly familiar. She listened to him speak while at the same time, her shoulders slumped with realization and incredulity as she watched the man sitting in the chair pulling his arms around from the ropes that were now untied, barely falling free from his wrists.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she whispered.

The man reached for the switch blade the woman was holding, and took it from her shaky hands, almost dropping it when she stepped back in black heels that clinked against the cement floor. 

“W-What is going on, Aozora?” the woman asked.

He cut into the fabric of the bag and revealed a face she didn’t ever want to look at since she returned to Japan. 

“For fuck sakes,” she whispered under her breath at the sight of the dark haired man as he ripped the black tape from his lips, revealing his sharp and lethal smile. 

He turned toward her, tilting his head to the side as he discarded the rest of the bag. “Tell him, thank you for the heads up, I wasn’t so sure how long this was going to last.”

Akira gritted her teeth, and said into the phone, “Thanks, Shinra, for the heads up, vice versa.”

He chuckled on the other line, “Of course. It’s only a favor between frie—” She hung up, tossing the phone to the side.

“I can’t believe it, Izaya,” she said, glaring at him, “like always, for some odd reason, you find yourself in the wrong pile of shit.”

“I don’t think I would want to find myself in something like that,” Izaya said, rising from the chair and smiling at the woman who had been torturing him for the past two hours. The bruises on his face wasn’t too bad, nor was the large one on his arm. At least she hadn’t cut him yet, the knife was used to threaten him, but if she had split some skin, Akira was sure Izaya would’ve stopped his facade a lot earlier than it was intended to be. 

Akira shook her head, trying to ignore her disbelief in these turn of events. “I don’t need you interfering.”

“This actually isn’t about you and whatever is going on,” Izaya told her. 

“I don’t care,” Akira said, “you weren’t meant to be sitting in that fucking chair.”

“Then maybe you should get better men on your end,” Izaya said, narrowing his eyes at her, “and possibly, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Akira scoffed. “I’m sure it would’ve even if I didn’t want to happen. What a waste of two hours, thanks for that.” He was right about one thing. She reached for the gun that was sitting on a table to the side where the woman was going to begin her job, and maybe she should’ve at least broke Izaya’s finger, it would’ve had made her night. 

She took the gun while Izaya watched her push in the magazine before aiming the gun to the man who passed her the phone, and she pulled the trigger, his body fell the moment the woman started to scream, and her body was next, then the last that stood in the far back of the room. 

“I wouldn’t go that extreme,” Izaya said once the silence echoed between them and the bodies lying between them, “but I don’t mind the certainty of your actions.”

Akira set the gun down on the table, and she let out a sigh at the mess. “You ruined my entire week, Orihara.” She shook her head, and turned away from him.

“Knowing you,” Izaya began as she headed for the doorway, stepping over the dead body, “you can make up for it, you’re a lot more efficient than the ones you killed.”

Akira scoffed. “I don’t need your sentiment.”

“And you’re not in the least curious of why I infiltrated your operation?” 

He was baiting her, but she was tired of it. 

“No, I don’t care. You ruined what I was doing—”

“Torturing a man seems below you, Akira.”

Akira glared over her shoulder at him. He stood before a bright light, surrounded by grey tones, and dark red, motionless bodies, with a crooked smile on his handsome face, “It was nice seeing you again, but if I ever need your help, I’ll get into contact with you. I hope the next time, you’ll consider that as well.” 

She turned away from him and continued down the hallway. She didn’t care what he did, nor where he wanted to stand amongst her people. What she hoped to conduct had nothing to do with him. Except, she had the notion that it was exactly what he hoped. 

A reaction, and more specifically, her own. 


End file.
